


Break Me Down, Build Me Up

by alex4968



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, one scene of violence, other than that a lot of fluff, set in the late 1800s to early 1900s, some self doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 21:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13132872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex4968/pseuds/alex4968
Summary: America, as it’s been told, is the world of riches. Men and women alike can come to the land of the free and achieve the American dream, regardless of their background. He wanted nothing more than to create a better life for his sisters, for himself, and perhaps for his future. Harry Styles was never a part of the plan.[or: Louis moves his family to America to try and find a better life. Harry finds him instead.]





	Break Me Down, Build Me Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tomlinsonjersey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomlinsonjersey/gifts).



> Title from "Whatever It Takes" by Imagine Dragons.

 

“The old wanderlust had gotten into his blood, the joy of the unbound life, the joy of seeking, of hoping without limit.”  
― Upton Sinclair, The Jungle

 

It all started just past dawn in August, 1891. 

Cold air wisped around the lot of them, unforgiving in the way it chilled fingertips and toes alike. The ocean roared with waves tall from an oncoming storm, and Louis’ heart pounded in his chest. 

He and his sisters crowded into the small room, rocking side by side as the violent waves rolled beneath them. A cabin so low beneath the water had no holes in the wood to allow the chill of the outside air inside, but the cold of the water seemed to seep through the material and spread through the small cabin. 

The smell of salt filled every corner of the room as the ship moved, making a constant feeling of unease spread throughout Louis’ body. He’d never taken well to the ocean, always having avoided the pier despite his childhood friend’s best attempts to get him to join them to go swimming. Something about the seemingly never ending expanse of water, about the uncertainty that came with the crashing waves, always unsettled him. This was no different. 

He’d always enjoyed having a set way of things, of having his future planned out ahead of him and with nothing left to question. That was the way it was meant to be - the way he’d planned on living his life. His grandfather had passed on and left him a small shoe shop in the heart of france when he was eleven years old, which had earned him enough to care for his family alongside his mothers seamstress job. 

It wasn’t until she fell ill and was no longer able to work that Louis realized that his grueling hours enough weren’t enough to sustain - that nothing he possibly  _ could  _ do in his life would be enough to keep his family’s head about the water that was constantly threatening to drown them. It was a realization that struck, shattering him to bits with little left to survive. 

He’d sat, just before dawn on August 10th 1891, beside his mother’s bed as she took her last, labouring breaths. “My son, my sweet boy.” She’d said, “You must find a life that isn’t this.” Her english was broken, having only been able to teach the lot of her children the simplest parts of the language before they were forced to branch off and learn from others. 

“The people in our family have said that for generations, mum.” He’d said softly, unsure how to comfort her when such a rash thought it brought out. 

“No, no. You must act on it.” She says, coughing. “You must take the girls, go to America. Find a better life.” She’d said softly, just barely above the whisper her always-sore throat allowed. He’d known for years that the dream of America was something that had always been sparked in their bloodline - the idea of leaving to find something else was always a desire heard strong in their hearts. Yet, the thought was still terrifying. 

Losing his mother had been another blow to his family, but instead of letting it shatter them completely, he forced himself to move forward. 

Her last wish had been for him to leave their small home in France to build a home in America - so he’d set off to do exactly that. 

The ship rocked again, nearly making Louis trip on his own footing. It was dark and musty in the small cabin he and his family would be calling home for the next week. 

Bunk Beds, five of them, stacked three high were the only things that could fit into the rooms. Their small bags of what they managed to carry from home to the docks stayed permanently by the top of the bed, guarded at all hours of the day. Five other people shared the small cabin with them, another family of three as well as a couple that were also going to America to try and find a better life. 

Niall, a blond man who’d been tossed out of his medical practice when someone had found out he’d had a child outside of wedlock. They had lost that child, but the title of having a child without being married stuck over his head and ruined his career, he’d said. He and his now wife, Louise, took the bottom bunk closest to the door. 

Louis and Niall had immediately hit it off, forming a fast friendship that he could only hope would last longer than just the duration of their journey. The girls bonded with Louise - a school teacher who they said told the best stories. 

Sleep had been fleeting and the feeling of nausea was the only constant for the week it took them to cross the massive expanse of water. The ocean, he learned, was just as unrelenting as it was unforgiving. 

But there was a destination in mind and as they got closer and closer, his heart slowly started to fill with the same desire that had run in his family for generations. 

America, as it’s been told, is the world of riches. Men and women alike can come to the land of the free and achieve the American dream, regardless of their background. It was that thought that had kept his head up day in and night out. He wanted nothing more than to create a better life for his sisters, for himself, and perhaps for his future. 

 

Stepping off the boat, Louis breathes a sigh of relief. There’s nothing quite more comforting than standing on solid ground after three weeks of being at sea. He’s holding Lottie and Doris’ hands, who are holding Félicité and Daisy’s. The five of them are a force to be reckoned with, he thinks. They’re ready to take the world on, whatever it is that it’s going to give them. 

They’re going to make the most of the life they’ve got - and they’re going to build a new one from the ground up. There are holes in Louis’ shoes now, from years of wearing, and the clothes on each of their backs are worn and old, but soon, he thinks, they will be in a better place than they can even imagine. 

A streetcar speeds down the road the five of them stand on, forcing a gust of wind around them. Lottie’s dress sways in the gust, but they all look on. 

The year isn’t forgiving. 

Louis finds a job that makes his entire body ache in ways he’s never felt before and the cuts and nicks on his fingers sting with pain each day. His sisters seam up clothes in place of work for the small amount of extra money it makes them, but the American Dream is not something that Louis has found for them as of yet. 

He’s found only the harsh reality that everyone wants to make it big, that everyone wants to live lavishly and comfortably and that only few are truly able to. He’s found that cities are far more populated here than they had been back home because of the rush to work in the factories, and he’s found most of all that some days, it’s worse here than it had been in France. 

Some days, between the long hours at work and the small rations he’s able to bring home, he wishes he’d never bought the tickets to bring them here. His sisters are always there to reassure him, but the stress of it all aches more than he could ever be willing to admit. 

“I’m sorry this is all there is for the evening.” He says, sitting at the dining table with his sisters. Their table is pulled out from against the wall as it is every night - taking up more than half of the kitchen around them. A loaf of bread and a small pot of cabbage soup sits in front of all five of them, and he can see the unspoken disappointment written in the faces of the four girls around him. 

They’ve grown since the lot of them left England - and with growing girls means more food is needed. Yet, Louis can barely afford to keep them alive. Bread and, occasionally, soup is really all he can bring home. It’s enough to sustain, but just barely. 

He’s been working in a factory for nearly two years now, sixteen and twenty hour days being his normal, and yet it never seems to be enough. He’d bring home any food he could at the end of each day, but nothing ever seemed to be what he wanted to have - what he knows his sisters deserve. 

“Thank you, Lou.” The four of them say at random intervals, bringing a small smile to his face. 

His sisters never once complained, always thanked him more than anything, but he could see it in their faces on the weeks he was cut on hours and the food became less. He himself often didn’t eat at dinner most nights, instead allowed the four girls around him to eat what they wanted first, only taking what he needed if there was any left over.  

They were what helped him get through the long hours. He’d lost hope within the first year of finding his own American dream. Each day, all it came down to was finding enough to survive, enough to sustain, and enough to maybe make them happy every once and awhile. 

 

Each night brings much of the same. He goes to work day in and day out, often times going in just as the sun rises and not leaving until the sky is entirely dark around him. His skin is paler now - having lost the touch of a tan he’d had for most of his life. He’d always enjoyed being out in the sun, going outside with his family to just enjoy the day. 

But that isn’t even a thought that runs through his head anymore. 

It’s not until Félicité falls ill that he panics, every thought of what’s wrong with his life running through his head. It’s a late autumn night when she claims she doesn’t feel well and retreats to her bed to lay down for the evening before she’s even eaten anything. It’s something that happens so rarely that Louis isn’t entirely sure how to handle it. He brings her water and makes sure she eats something; but when he feels her forehead, she’s incredibly warm to the touch. It’s something that brings immediate concern and a sense of panic and urgency that he’s never once felt before wells up in his chest as he runs through all of the possible options he can think of to get her help. 

Every cent that he’d earned over the last two weeks had immediately gone to rent and food, and the only person he’d known that was medically trained had been a blonde Irish boy that had shared the cabin on the boat, over two years ago. 

He watches her slowly start to deteriorate over the next three days, going to work each day unsure if he’ll return to her still being alive. It’s not until the evening of that third night that he remembers a late night on that first evening on the boat trip to America. He’d given a woman - the wife of a blonde man - a blanket from an empty bed when Lottie had crawled into the small bed with him. She’d been shivering loudly enough to keep Louis awake, and the husband had said that he’d owe him a favor for helping her. 

“Charlotte.” He says as he walks into the kitchen that evening. “Keep an eye on your sisters, I need to find someone.” She nods, the same concerned smile on her face as he grabs his coat and walks out into the chilly night air. 

The evening is darker than usual and he only feels less certain as he walks. Everything being so unsure stresses him out more than he would like to admit. Losing his sister would be the end of all of this - he doubts he would be able to move on like this if he were to lose her. It would be entirely his own fault - never having been able to provide enough to keep her strong and healthy. 

He finds the address he’d been looking for sooner than he’d thought he would and knocks on the door, hoping that if there is anyone there to grant a wish, that the person he needs to answer will answer. 

As the door opens, he bites his lip. “Louis?” The blonde man asks, accent thinner than it had been when they first met. 

“Niall.” He says, clearing his throat. “Do you remember when you said you owed me a favor?” 

“Of course.” He steps outside, closing the door behind him. “Wife’s sleeping, so I’ve got to keep quiet.” He says. “What can I help you with?”

“My sister, Félicité, she’s sick. Worryingly so.” 

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s had a very high fever for three days now. She can’t hold down food and can barely stand.” 

“I’ll come and have a look at her. Let me just,” Niall points towards the inside of the house and Louis nods, sighing in soft relief. 

The walk back towards his house is tense, quiet, and full of stress on Louis’ end. 

When they get to Louis’ small apartment, he shows Niall to where Félicité lays, and he immediately goes over to her and starts doing his exam. He sits in the kitchen with his other sisters, trying to ease their nerves just as much as his own. The only thing they can do from here is hope; they can do nothing more than hope that everything will be okay. 

It’s not long before Niall emerges. “She should be fine.” He says when he walks out of the room. “It’s nothing that will kill her. She needs to eat quite a bit more, though. I know that’s hard, but if it’s possible, that’s what will keep her healthy.” A pang of guilt fills his chest all over again. “For now, keep her hydrated. Make sure she stays cool.” 

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Niall.” He says, breathing a sigh of relief. He knows that there is little he can do for now, but having that reassurance that she isn’t going to die means more than he could ever describe. 

“You’re welcome, Louis.” He says softly. “You can always come to me if you need anything, okay? Favor owed or not. I know we haven’t spoken since that boat, but I do consider you a friend.” 

“Thank you. Maybe we can see each other more often.”

“Of course.” 

 

He walks Niall home that evening, but once the other man is back in his house, he keeps walking. The rush of wind surrounds him, the shrill of it blocking out some of the thoughts in his head. He doesn’t want to think about this anymore - doesn’t want to think about how his family is falling ill because of him. If he were to just try harder, do something different, then they could be just fine. Perhaps that’s the reason. Perhaps that’s what’s causing all of this. He just isn’t trying hard enough. Everything he has, everything he’s taken for granted his entire life, is threatening to fall through his fingertips and he doesn’t so much as have a plan to save it. 

He’s not entirely sure of the thoughts that are storming through his head as he sees another man walking down the path towards him. Just the moonlight above him gives a gentle gleam of light, showing a flash of metal around the man’s wrist. 

His feet seem to move on their own accord as they cross paths. 

Louis pretends to trip, lets his body fall into the other mans as his fingers make quick work of the distraction. 

“I’m so sorry!” He says as he smashes directly into the other man and as the watch is stuffed into his pocket. He’s not sure which part he’s more sorry for. 

“It’s alright.” The man says with a polite nod, continuing in the opposite direction. Louis’ heart hammers as he makes a turn down a different block, just in case the man realizes what he’s done. 

Even as he gets back to the house, he doesn’t look at the watch. It nearly burns a hole in his pocket as he lays in bed that evening, wondering what on earth came over him to commit such an act. He’s always considered himself an honest man, a man of his word, a man of dignity. And yet, stooping so low doesn’t feel like he’s hit the bottom just yet. 

He listens to the evened out breathes of his sisters around him and another thought he doesn’t think he’s created enters his mind. If he sells the watch, that could get them food for more than a week. His chest tightens with the thought, and then relaxes when he thinks about how he wouldn’t have to see his sisters disappointed faces anymore when he brings home yet another loaf of stale bread from the baker’s  _ last day  _ counter. 

The thoughts seem to swirl inside of his brain until he sees that it’s time for him to go to work and he’s not even slept a wink. His sisters stay sleeping, and for the first time since he came to America, he realizes that there is  _ something  _ he can do to keep them alive. 

He hands the watch over to a pawn man, and when he receives eighty two dollars in return, he swears he could cry. He’s never held so much money in his hands before. He thanks the man before he walks out of the shop, entirely unsure how he’s supposed to feel. 

It’s money he certainly didn’t earn and his pride has taken a dive lower than it ever has, but something about it feels, perhaps, not so wrong. 

He buys a full meal for his family that evening, with chicken, rice, and beans, for all of them. It’ll be the best meal they’ve had in months, and he feels more pride in being able to provide than he’d already lost. 

 

So it goes on. He doesn’t let himself dwell. 

 

It goes on just the same for nearly nine more months. He finds himself stealing something every two or so weeks, taking the money, putting three-fourths of it towards their meals, and the last fourth towards buying the lot of them a real house one day. He thinks it would take him about three years at this rate - instead of the thirty he’d anticipated from earning his small wages in the factory. 

He keeps the money tucked in an extra pillowcase beneath his mattress. It’s gained to nearly five-hundred dollars now, and with only about fifteen hundred remaining, he hopes he can get them somewhere better sooner, rather than later. 

His family looks healthier.  _ He  _ feels healthier. Sometimes, he thinks, everything should feel just fine. He shouldn’t be stressed and he certainly shouldn’t feel guilty for finally taking the action to help provide what his family desperately needed, yet, he does. 

He’s sitting on the windowsill of the apartment on a sunday, his only day off, nodding off in the light of the sun when he hears footsteps enter the room. 

“I’m not sure what’s happened, and I know you won’t tell, but whatever it is you’re doing - I can see that it’s eating you alive, brother.” Charlotte says, sitting beside him on the window sill. She’s told him time and time again that she wants to work, that she wants to help provide and take some of the stress from Louis. Yet, that thought makes him ache more than the long hours in the factory. He’d always thought that there would be opportunities here for all of them, but learning the harsh reality of how people like them are treated, he wants Charlotte nowhere near it. 

“There’s no reason to worry for me.” He says softly, giving her a smile. “It’s you lot that keeps me going anyhow. Makes it easier to know I get to come home to the best sisters in the world each night.” 

“We love you too, dearly. But even in the beginning when perhaps you thought nothing you did was good enough, it was better seeing you look happy than empty.” She squeezes his hand before she gets up and walks away from the window. It was the only window in the apartment and also the only place Louis found himself enjoying some peace and quiet. 

But now, Charlotte’s words echo around in his head. 

He’s not entirely sure when he allowed himself to slip from being an honest man to a thief, but as the months went on and he watched his sisters grow healthy, he found himself worrying less. It was never in excess, as he’d take only what would provide his family what they needed, and it was always from men who seemed to have more than enough. 

Yet, even his most thought out excuses never seemed to ebb the guilt that flowed through him at every moment of the day. 

He knows well enough that she’s right, but nothing can fix it, really. If he allows his sisters to find work, he’ll feel a kind of guilt far more than what he feels now. There is no great option, but only the better of the two evils. 

 

He’s out again, just past two in the afternoon the next sunday. Snow falls in tufts from the clouds as Louis walks down the road. His hands sting with the cold and his toes have nearly gone entirely numb from the thin material of his shoes as he trudges through the freezing slush on the ground. Heavy, thick snowflakes fall from the sky only to melt the moment they touch down to the ground. 

He doesn’t remember the beginning of the previous winter being quite so brutal, but he doesn’t want to think so much about it. 

It had been nearly an entire year since he first started all of this, and as time goes on, he finds himself feeling less and less guilty. He’s not quite decided yet if that’s a good or bad thing - but he tells himself every day that he hasn’t allowed himself to be corrupted. 

He never takes more than he needs and he’ll never allow himself to hurt someone over the idea of taking something. Those are the two biggest rules he’s set for himself while he’s breaking one he’d once thought he never would. 

He forces himself to push those thoughts aside as he pulls the door to  _ Dusty’s Bar  _ open. 

A gust of warm air rushes over him as he walks in, sending a wave of prickles along his cold skin. No one so much as takes notice to his presence, all completely enraptured in their own little worlds. 

The bar is filled with smoke, cigars dangling from dozens of mouths all around him. Two bartenders man the bar, attending to all the patrons as their glasses empty alongside their wallets.  A record plays far off in the corner of the room, compelling the bodies all around him to sway to the soft sounds around them. It’s a softer track of someone he thinks might be Louis Armstrong - filling the room around him to the point he can’t help but tap his own foot. It’s hypnotic, the way the sounds can fill a room and force everyone to feel something so similar, yet so different as they each take their own life view on it. 

Drinks flow freely, red-cheeks and loud, drunken belly laughs fill the spaces of lowness in the music. There’s a constant stream of murmurs that never seems to die down, and Louis knows that he’s chosen his opportune moment. It’s a rarity that he finds everyone in the room distracted in such a way, and yet he’s still nervous. 

The nerves never leave, and he doubts they ever will. He’s good at what he does, exceptional, even. But the fear of being caught and being taken away from his family without so much as a word is a fear he can barely stomach. So he forces himself to be the best of the worst - focuses on doing the task at hand with nothing but precision. 

A man sits at the bar, the chair turned just slightly so Louis can see a small, expensive pocket watch peeking from his pocket. It looks silver, and it looks like a good enough target for the evening - enough to feed his family, enough to keep them going.  The suit he wears is purple, soft and barely recognizable in the darkness of the bar around them, but still prominently different from any of those around him. (symbol: wealth, prosperity) 

The man has a hand wrapped around a small glass with an amber color liquid inside, on the rocks. Gin, he thinks. Just the perfect kind of alcohol to make someone unsuspecting in the way he needs most. He has curls on top of his head, gleaming beneath bar lights, showing the different tones of brown, and from the side of his face, he looks to have an incredible bone structure. 

Louis takes a small breath, then strolls behind the man, slow in the way he walks, but not enough to appear unnatural. He’s fast but calculated in the way he reaches out, grabs the watch, and tucks it into a hidden pocket inside of his own sleeve that Charlotte had sewn for him. 

The music goes on around him, and he continues walking. 

“Where do you think you’re goin’ with that?” A thick, clearly-native New York  accent asks once he’s about three steps away, and then there’s a hand wrapped around his wrist. Every instinct in his body is telling him to  _ run,  _ to flee, to get away as fast as he possibly can, and yet he knows that causing a scene will only draw more attention to him. 

He wills himself to imagine the man won’t have a gun, that this won’t be his last day alive. He turns around and makes eye contact with the man holding his arm. “Not sure what you’re talking about.” 

“Now, darlin’ I’m pretty sure we both know exactly what I’m talking about. So how about you just give me my watch back before we have a problem, hm?” 

The first thing he notices is that there is no gun - and he barely contains his relieved sigh. The second thing he notices is exactly how much larger this man is than him, and how he certainly hadn’t appeared to be so big when he was sitting down. His suit is tailored, expensive, and has likely never been worn before, and Louis can’t help the small flash of envy that builds in his heart. All he wants is enough money to feed his family, and this man wears his year’s salary on his body. 

“I think you’re mistaking.” He says, forcing himself to keep up his lie. He’s been caught, he knows he should just hand over the watch and get himself out of his mess before he gets himself into more trouble. 

“Am I?” The man sounds so confident in his accusation, and Louis’ stomach is churning. “Then perhaps you’d like to sit with me. Have a drink.” It’s not a question and every nerve in Louis’ body is alive, a blazing wire threatening to combust. The man motions back towards the bar, and Louis forces himself into composure, forces himself to act as calm as he possibly can as he sits beside this strange, uncanny man. 

“I am a rather busy man and I do have a family to get home to, so is there a purpose to this Mr…?

“Styles. Harry Styles. And you are?” Louis is quite sure his entire world is about to come crashing down all in a single sentence.  _ Styles.  _ Of course he’d managed to steal - and get caught stealing - from the owner of the factory he works in. 

“Louis Tomlinson.” He says, keeping his voice steady.  He knows he’s been caught and that there’s little point now in trying to hide it, but he’s always been a man of pride. Perhaps his pride has taken a rather large fall over the course of the last year, but not to the point where he’s entirely willing to admit his flaws. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr.Tomlinson.” Harry says, his voice slow. Louis’ palms are sweating more now and he wants nothing more than to flee - to get away from this situation he’d managed to dig himself into. “Now, if it were under better circumstances, perhaps I would buy you a drink, or make friendly conversation. But instead, you continue to lie to me when it’s unneccessary to do so. I’m not angry, and if you return what belongs to me with an explanation, I will continue to not be angry.” 

His heart skips a beat in his chest, feeling like he’s been pushed into a corner that is only getting smaller. No one around them is paying them any attention, so it would be between the two of them only, and yet it still feels as if it would be a massive hit to his pride. There’s no reason to feel the way he does, not when he knows any remnants of pride he’d had had disappeared the moment he first became a thief, and yet he can’t help it. 

Harry is staring at him with a quirked brow. The look on his face says he knows he’s going to get exactly what he wants, so Louis plays along. He reaches into the pocket and hands over the watch, breaking eye contact as he starts to get up to leave. A hand wraps around his arm yet again, pulling him back down to the chair before he so much as gets an inch away, and the feeling of being trapped comes back in full force. 

“Now, I said I want an explanation. So, start explaining.”

“Look, you’ve got what you wanted already, now I have places to be.” 

“See that man there, sitting at the end of the bar? That’s Liam Payne, the sheriff. Now, you can talk to me, or you can talk to him. It’s up to you.” Louis grits his teeth, anger welling up in the same place where shame had been only moments earlier. But he knows he can’t go to prison - he can’t leave his sisters behind like that. 

The barman comes up and asks if he wants a drink - he declines quietly and Harry asks for a refill on his Gin. He wants to leave - he doesn’t want to be here a second longer. 

“There’s not much to explain.” He says, keeping his voice calm. “I make 53 cents in a full day’s wages, and it costs nearly a dollar for a loaf of bread and rent is twelve dollars a month. Four sisters and myself can’t live on half a loaf of bread a day.” It feels odd to be so vulnerable with a stranger. He’s never spoken of his financial troubles with anyone other than Lottie - and even with her it’s reserved. He’s never had to explain himself in such a way. 

“Who do you work for that thinks 53 cents is a good day’s pay?!” Louis doesn’t answer, instead stays quiet and forces himself to keep a calm face. 

“You’ve got your explanation, I’m going to go, now.” He doesn’t make a move to get up this time, not willing to risk being pulled back again. He doesn’t want to draw attention and he certainly doesn’t want to cause a scene. 

“Who do you work for, Mr.Tomlinson?” The man seems entirely adamant on knowing - yet Louis can’t think of a name for a different factory off the top of his head to tell him. Getting fired would be the end of being able to keep his sisters from working, and even then he worries it wouldn’t be enough. 

“Does it matter?”

“I’d like to know.”

“So it doesn’t matter, then.”

“It does.” They’re bantering now - to the point that the discomfort from before is slowly starting to fade. He thinks that this man really doesn’t care as much as he’s giving on about where he’s employed, but rather wants to have someone to talk to. It’s almost awkward in a way, but Louis doesn’t want to press his limits, doesn’t want to attempt to leave if his impression could be wrong. 

“Why do you care?”

“I’m a businessman, Mr.Tomlinson, but I like to think that everyone should give their workers a wage they can survive off of.” He forces himself not to scoff at the irony of such a statement, entirely unsure now how he could tell Mr.Styles the truth. 

“Perhaps the definition of survivable wage is different to some.” He gives instead. 

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Of course I am. I’ve made it clear I don’t want to tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because of your relationship to the owner.”

“Oh, is it someone I know?”

“I suppose you could say that.” 

“And how do you know this?” A small smile plays at the corner of the man’s lips. Louis isn’t entirely sure how he’s meant to read this - how he’s meant to read a conversation where he doesn’t seem to have the upperhand. 

“I just do.”

“Just tell me, appease my curiosity.” 

“And if you don’t like the answer?”

“There’s not much I can do about that, now is there?” 

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard of Styles Manufacturing?” Harry’s face falls - just slightly - but it’s enough to show that he knows where Louis is going with it. “Now that you know what you wanted to know, I’m going to leave now.” He swallows, praying his heart won’t burst out of his chest from nerves. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Mr.Tomlinson.” He takes that as more than enough of a dismissal, standing and making his way out of the bar. His stomach growls as he walks out into the wind, blowing his hair in different directions. He’d had every intention to be able to sell whatever he’d taken from some man this evening, but what happened instead left a disgusting feeling in his stomach. 

Going home with nothing hurts, but he thinks that forcing himself to steal something after what had happened would only hurt more. 

 

Sunrise the next morning brings more snow. 

Winter began with a howl this season, and it seems as if it doesn’t plan on letting up any time soon. 

He wakes up shivering, the blanket doing little to shield the cold. Daisy sleeps beside him, her own small bed abandoned in the corner. There’s long since been assigned beds in their home - instead changing who sleeps where on a nightly basis. Nightmares or extra energy or just about anything that could cause one of the girls to curl up in bed with him will cause exactly that. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. Having a family that is so close to him brings him more joy than he could ever have any other way. 

The window has about three inches of the white powder built up on the sill and he takes a moment to appreciate it. There are short moments like these where he wants nothing more than to spend the day in with his family and pretend that there isn’t anything keeping him from doing so. 

Lottie shifts in her sleep, making a soft huffing noise as she does. Louis tries not to think about anything as he crawls from bed and pulls on his work clothes. It’s the same routine as every other morning. The same routine he’s learned to not hate instead of love. 

Some days he wonders if he’ll ever enjoy his life here, or if his sisters ever will. He’s not sure if the American dream was made for those coming to seek it or for those in the future who will one day inherit it, but the latter seems to become more and more likely each day. 

Some days he wonders if any of it is worth it, or if all of this is just pointless strife for something that won’t matter in the end, anyway. But it’s just yet another thought in the stream of his mind that he doesn’t let bother him. 

 

The walk to work is short, but it feels longer as the snow makes a small pile atop his hat. His ears feel like ice before he finally walks into the building and makes his way over to the small table he sits at each day to do his work. 

He’s not sure what compels him to do so, but he finds himself looking up towards where the manager spends all of his days, only to see a familiar figure. 

In the office, just above the table he sits at, he sees Mr.Styles. Today he wears a normal black suit, and from what he can make out, the tie is a shade of yellow. A kind of shame he hasn’t felt in a long while grows in his stomach as he places the hand of a clock onto the face. 

He knows if he throws himself into his work, he’ll be able to pretend that he might not lose his job. He’ll be able to pretend well enough that there isn’t anything wrong, and that he’s never done anything to risk his entire livelihood. He’ll go about his days, making the same clocks over and over again without letting his mind wonder from anything except the task at hand. 

At least he hopes. 

 

“My.Styles wants to speak with you.” A voice says behind him about an hour later, and he nearly feels all of the blood drain from his body. The inevitable comes closer as he stands and makes his way towards the stairs. He can see through the glass that two men are standing there, still, clearly having a discussion. 

“Of course, thank you.” He says, forcing himself to keep his voice calm, to force his voice to not show exactly what he’s feeling. 

His legs feel weak as he stands and makes his way towards the stairs, each step feeling longer and longer as he walks. 

He chews on his lip as he knocks on the door and waits for it to be opened, only entering once it is. Both men look at him, and he isn’t sure what he’s meant to say. He feels like he could throw up or perhaps pass out - or maybe both at the same time. 

“Mr.Tomlinson.” Mr.Styles says after a long moment, and Louis’ entirely certain he’s pale as a ghost now. Nicks on his fingers ache as he tries to keep his hands at bay by pinching the fabric of his trousers. He doesn’t want to return home and tell his sisters that he’s lost his job - he doesn’t want to disappoint them with yet another night of forfeiting food. 

“Mr.Styles.” He says. The tremble in his voice is clear. Harry looks angry - the lines in his brows are clear and defined. The rings on his fingers only further his display of power. 

“Last night, when you told me how much you earn on a daily basis. Please tell me that number again.” 

“Um, 53 cents a day, sir.” 

“And how many hours do you work?”

“Sixteen, typically.” The man turns, places his hands in his pockets as he looks at the other man in the room. 

“You’re taking his word over mine?” 

“Do you have the cheques written out for this afternoon’s pay, Mr.Grimshaw?” 

“Of course I do.” 

“Let me see Mr.Tomlinson’s.” 

“Harry, there’s really no need for -”

“The cheque!” Harry shouts, making Louis jump. “I am your superior and you will listen to what I say.  _ Especially  _ if it is concerning misuse of money I trusted you with.” Louis stands frozen. He’s not entirely sure what’s playing out in front of him or exactly what is going to happen. 

Mr.Grimshaw gets an envelope out of a filing cabinet before he hands it over to Harry. Louis can only watch, eyes wide with uncertainty. 

“Louis, if you would please open this for me. I’d like to see exactly how much your daily pay is.” 

“Um, of course, sir.” He opens the envelope and pulls out the small cheque on the inside. “Six dollars and thirty nine cents, sir.” 

“For two weeks?” 

“Yes sir.” Harry pulls out a calculator, types the numbers in, and stares at it for a moment. Louis feels out of place, entirely like he’s in a space he’s not meant to be inside of. 

“Just a hair more than 53 cents per day.” Harry says and Mr.Grimshaw turns away. 

“He didn’t work every day.” Is the other man’s response. “In fact, I haven’t seen him ‘round these parts six days a week since he started working here. So, it’s more like 80 cents a day if he’s working only -”

“You keep records of time cards, do you not?”

“Um, I keep all of mine as well. I’ve not missed a day in over a year.” 

“Nick, you can leave. I no longer have a use for you here. Louis, stay. I’d like to talk to you.” Nick attempts to yell about something, but Harry silences him by raising his hand in his direction. As soon as the other man is out of the door, another feeling of dread fills his entire body. 

“Mr.Styles I really didn’t intend to start any trouble or anything of the sort - I had absolutely no intention of complaining about my wages or anything like that. I do enjoy this job and the pay is really much better than it would be anywhere else and -”

“Louis, stop. I fired Nick for stealing money not only from me, but from you and I’m sure many others on that floor as well.” He has to let those words process for a moment. “You’re not from here, I know. I know you try to hide the lilt of accent in your voice, but I do not discriminate immigrants in my wages. You were meant to receive 65 cents for each twelve hour period of work, with seven cents to be paid for each hour worked beyond that.” 

“I’m - what?”

“Meaning, you should have been making nearly twice the amount you are making now if he hadn’t been stealing.” Louis doesn’t know how to respond. He’s not entirely sure there  _ is  _ a proper response to something that is so entirely life altering. “So, starting now, you’ll be receiving the proper pay you should have been all along.”

“I’m not so - I have no idea, uh, I’m not sure what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything. I do apologize for the hardship all of this caused you and your family though.” 

“Thank you - thank you so much.” He says, still floundering over his words. His mind refuses to wrap around exactly what’s just happened, but the feeling of relief flooding over him is indescribable. There’s nothing he thinks he can do but stand there and gape - unsure what  he’s meant to say, what he’s meant to do, to think. Nothing like this had ever seemed like something that was going to happen to him. Often times, he felt like he was just the catalyst to a better future for his sisters, for someone else, but never for himself. Never once did he think that something good would happen when he was able to reap the benefits. 

“You can go on back downstairs now.” Harry says and Louis nods, turning on his heel as he goes to walk down the door. “Oh, and Louis?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You can come to me if you ever need anything - if your family needs something, alright? I can see it in you. You’re a good man in a tough spot and that’s the worst place to be in.” He doesn’t have words to respond, so he just turns around and walks down towards his station. 

Eyes are on him the entire time, all hoping he’ll tell someone what’s just happened so they can eavesdrop and know what did just happen, but he sits silently and slowly starts his work back up. He feels like everything is buzzing, like his body has a strong current of electricity running through him because of the excitement. 

He can’t wait to go home and tell Lottie and the others that things won’t be so hard anymore - that he doesn’t have to worry about them anymore. He can’t wait to be able to start the life that he’d always hoped he’d have. All he’d needed was a little bit of a miracle, and now that it’s come - he doesn’t know what to feel. He just feels - good. 

 

“Girls!” He calls out as soon as he opens the door, a grin on his face because of the two full paper bags in his arms. The twins come running out as he sets the bags down, immediately asking if they can look through it. He allows them, watching as Lottie picks through it. 

“How on earth did you afford all of this?” She asks. Louis can tell she’s just shocked, and her eyes widen when she realizes how brash she’d just sounded. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She corrects, “I’m just surprised. What’s happened?”

“It turns out that someone was money laundering at the factory and cut my pay nearly in half of what it was meant to be. I got paid sixteen dollars this cheque.”

“Sixteen dollars?!” both Lottie and Félicité ask at the same time. 

“Sixteen dollars.” He confirms. “We shouldn’t have to worry about food anymore, girls. We should be - we should be just fine.” The way the atmosphere in the house changes is something he can’t even believe so much as describe. Perhaps the only way to describe it would be such an immense feeling of relief, of happiness, of joy. It’s an immediate shift in the mood of every single one of them, and he can’t stop smiling. 

“Well, with all of this I think I’ll make up some potato cream soup.” Félicité says, making the younger twins cheer with joy. 

 

The weeks go on and things are slowly starting to look up. Louis completely stopped stealing - deciding that the amount he makes during the week honestly is enough to both feed the lot of them and put just enough away that they’ll make it into a house one day. Not soon, and certainly not the most extravagant, but just enough to take care of them. 

That’s all he needs, anyway. 

He’s walking around aimlessly on a saturday night after having changed his one day off, switching with a woman who’d just become a grandmother and wanted her day off to match her sons, so they could spend the day as a family. He understood and easily made the switch. It threw him off a bit, not used to the heavy crowds around town as he walked, but he found himself actually beginning to enjoy it. He loved seeing the vibrance of the people around him, loved watching them and making up fake stories about their lives in his head. 

It was a game he used to play with his mum - they’d sit around the streets and look for interesting looking people and make up entire stories about what they were doing. They would be silly most times, and it was just a funny habit that stuck with him well into adulthood. 

A man walks out of a door just as Louis is walking past it, knocking the smaller man right onto his arse. “Watch where you’re going, street rat.” The man says and walks off, a woman attached to his side. He sighs softly as he pulls himself off the ground and dusts himself off before he keeps walking. He’s sore where he hit the ground and he fights against a painful twinge in his ankle each time he takes a step, but it’s nothing new. A little pain has always followed him in his life and he certainly has learned not to expect anything less at this point. He lets it remind him that he is simply human. Nothing more than any of the people around him, and nothing less. Everyone here is just trying their hardest to survive and he’s just the same. 

The thought doesn’t stick for long, but he likes to pretend that anyone would consider him of equal worth to any other person walking down the street. No one would, but perhaps that’s aside from the point. He has to remind himself to keep only positive thoughts in his head. 

He keeps walking, only faltering when he hears a familiar voice behind him call his name. “Louis?” The voice asks and he stops to turn around. 

“Mr. Styles?” He asks, unsure of what he’s meant to say. 

“Hi.” The man says. “You weren’t at the factory today.” 

“Oh, no, I wasn’t. Um, Dorothy and I switched our days off, because her son’s wife has just recently had a child. She wanted to have her day off match his.” 

“Ah. Well it was very kind of you to switch.” He nods his agreement. He thinks the other man sees the puzzlement on his face about being approached, and a realization draws across his face.  “Oh, right! I saw you fall just a minute ago, and I wanted to ask if you were alright.”

“Oh, um, yeah. I’m fine. Thank you. Bit embarrassing, if I’m honest.”

“That guy was an ass for just knocking you off your feet like that.” Louis smiles a bit at that, a small bubble of a laugh passing his lips. 

“It happens rather often. I suppose a lot of people have some kind of sight filter - oversee anyone worth less than a few thousand net dollars.” Harry doesn’t find his joke funny, Louis thinks, and the atmosphere between them changes immediately. “Sorry, I suppose that wasn’t funny.”

“Do you mind if I walk with you? Did you have a particular place you were heading to?”

“I just picked up my sister’s medication, so now I’m just walking around. I enjoy the weather when it’s like this.” Louis says, “But you’re welcome to join me, if you don’t mind aimless wandering.” 

“Sounds like a great way to spend an evening.” Harry says with a smile before he starts walking alongside Louis as they go. 

“Were you headed anywhere in particular?” 

“I wasn’t before um,” Harry pauses, stuttering over his words. “Before I saw you, I guess?” Louis looks at him for a moment, unsure of what he means. “I just wanted to ask if maybe I can perhaps take you out some time? You can say no, of course.”

“Take me out?” Louis asks, entirely taken aback. He’d always just resigned himself to being alone for the rest of his life, never having expected to find another man with attraction to men. It was something he’d struggled with his entire life, but had almost finally come to terms with. 

“Um, yes. To dinner? Or perhaps just on another walk. But uh, with the pretense of…. An evening together. A date.” 

“Are you - are you sure you’re asking the right person? Me? The man you’ve met twice, and one of them being because I tried to steal from you?” This draws a little laugh from Harry. 

“Yes, I’m quite sure. I find you very interesting, and I don’t hold a grudge about that. I understand that tough times do call for tough measures. And you did give it back.” Louis looks at him for a moment, unsure of what’s about to happen. He assumes that the worst that can happen is that Harry is playing some kind of quite mean spirited game, but he agrees anyway. 

“Well, I suppose I won’t turn an offer of something that nice down.” He says, smiling. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Harry says, matching his smile. 

Although he’s already asked his question, they keep walking together. A majority of their conversation is easy smalltalk, about their day, a bit about their families. Before long, the sun is slowly creeping below the horizon and a chill seeps easily beneath the thin material of his jumper. It had been a relatively warm day as the end of winter crawled closer, but the nights still brought the bitter cold. 

“Can I walk you home?” Harry asks, seemingly unaffected by the chill. 

“I’m sure I live entirely on the other side of town as you. I wouldn’t want to bother you with walking further than necessary.”

“I don’t mind. As long as you don’t.” He bites the inside of his cheek before he nods, happy, in a way, to have the company. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve walked this far. I think I got caught up a little more than I thought in talking to you.”

“Is that your way of saying you think I’m interesting?”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.” He says with a little laugh, making Harry laugh as well. It’s almost strange how easily the conversation flows between them, almost as if they weren’t complete strangers less than a few weeks ago. He almost thinks, for a moment, that this is some strange work of fate, bringing the two of them together when they just seem to fit so easily. 

“Next Saturday around five thirty?”

“That sounds perfect.” He says, suddenly breathless. He’s not entirely able to wrap his head around what’s just happened, but a grin has plastered it’s way onto his face. 

He has a date. 

 

“Louis!” Charlotte says as soon as she realizes he’s home. “I know you didn’t want me to, but I got a job today.”

“You - what?” He asks, fear immediately filling his stomach.

“You said you got a raise with your factory, so I was thinking of going and asking if maybe anyone around there would like a house cleaner, something along those lines. Easier work, because I knew you didn’t want me working in a factory.” He listens, hesitantly. “But then the co-owner, Liam Payne, comes up to me instead, and asks, ‘You’re looking for a job?’. I said, ‘Yes, I am. Do you have anything open?’ and he asks if I’m good with math, with numbers, and naturally I say yes. He offers me a job to be his new book manager. His - his book manager Lou!” That makes a smile immediately break out across Louis’ face as he draws his sister into a tight hug. He’d only wanted her to be happy, and if being able to work with numbers and do math for hours a day is what makes her happiest, then he’s happy, too. 

  
  


Harry arrives at his front door at exactly five thirty. 

Louis has already gotten supper cooked and served up for his girls before he’d gotten ready, and had made sure Lottie was ready to take care of the other three for several hours in the evening. 

When he answers the door, he can’t help the small smile, seeing Harry not quite dressed up but not quite in the casual clothes he’d seen him in on the street the other day. 

Louis’ clothing selection has always been rather small, so he just opted for one of his favorite shirts that isn’t for work and slacks, happy with how it turned out. “Hi.” He says, stepping aside to let Harry come in for a moment. 

“Hi, Louis.” 

“I’m almost ready, I just want to double check that the girls are okay.” Harry nods before Louis goes back into their small bedroom. 

Felicite is running another fever and he presses the back of his hand against her forehead again, to feel the heat still stronger than it should be. “You keep on drinking your water, okay?” She nods, a tired smile spreading on her face. He wants nothing more than to know what’s wrong with her, but he trusts Niall enough to believe that she isn’t going to die. “I’ll come check on you again when I get home.” 

“Go and have your fun, Lou. I’ll be just fine.” He nods and runs his fingers through her hair in his best attempt at a comforting gesture before he heads back towards Harry. 

“Alright, I’m ready.” He says with a smile. Harry nods and follows Louis out, the same happy expression on his face, too. 

“You said you have four sisters, right?”

“Yep. Charlotte has just turned nineteen, Felicite is seventeen, doris and daisy are both six.” 

“Sounds like you’re quite a busy man, then.” 

“I am, yeah. Girls are a lot of work, but they’re also the best people I know. So I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He pauses, smiling. “Do you have any siblings?”

“One, a sister. She’s just a bit older than me, her name is Gemma.” 

“You’re the baby of the family then.” Louis laughs and a little dimpled grin breaks out across Harry’s face. 

“That I am, always got the attention and whatnot that people say about the youngest.” Harry leads him as they walk and he almost wants to ask where he’s being taken, but he doesn’t. The surprise wouldn’t be as good if it were to be spoiled anyway. 

Conversation flows between them much the same as they go, and Louis finds that there isn’t a single barrier between the way they speak to each other. Harry doesn’t seem patronizing - instead, he seems like he just genuinely enjoys Louis’ company. 

It’s such a different feeling than that of what he’d assumed. The night has gone perfectly, and Harry is the perfect gentleman. They’re discreet when they’re out, Harry taking him to his best friend’s restaurant where they can sit in the back room and be alone together. It’s something he’d never thought he’d have, but now that he has it, he’s not sure how he’s meant to feel. 

The share a bit of ice cream as their dessert, and Louis grins as he wipes a bit of it away from the tip of Harry’s nose. 

“You’re very cute.” Harry says, a little grin on his face. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Styles.” He says, biting his lip. 

The rest of the evening is just as perfect. They play a song on the jukebox together and take the loneliness of the now closed to the public restaurant to dance together, laughing as they do.  Shawn, the owner, had decided to let them have the back to themselves as long as they wanted, just as long as they left before he did. It made everything even better. 

Louis was bad on his feet when he danced, but Harry just grinned and put up with it, ignoring when Louis stepped on his toes. Once, he’d even caught him just before he almost fell. 

The night was lovely, and Louis was almost sad to see it end. 

“I’d love to take you out another time.” Harry says with a genuine smile on his face and Louis’ stomach does a flip. 

“I’d love that.” 

Harry walks him home, despite Louis’ protests that he’ll only have to walk all the way across town after he’s walked Louis home - but he doesn’t seem to mind. As they reach Louis’ door, Louis stands there awkwardly a moment as the light breeze floats between them. 

“I had an amazing time with you tonight.” Harry says making a light blush dust across Louis’ face, before Harry’s leaning down and giving him the softest, sweetest goodnight kiss he thinks could ever exist. His blush gets redder. 

“I did, too.” He says, smiling. 

“Would you like to do this again next saturday? Same time?”

“That sounds great.” 

 

The next several weeks go on much the same, but the air of magic that floats between them never once ebbs. Harry comes over to his house on a few occasions as they spend more time together, either cooking the entire family something or just sitting back and playing a game with all of them. 

It’s incredible, the way that Harry interacts with his siblings. He lets the twins braid his hair on the parts where it’s longest on top and even helps do their hair, too. 

“I have an older sister who taught me how to do all of this.” He says with a grin before Louis asks, watching as Harry ties a perfect french braid into Lottie’s hair. He hadn’t ever learned how to do anything quite like that, always having been busy working when their mother was alive, but now it makes his heart feel tight and heavy to see someone able to interact with the girls in that way once again. 

“What does she do now?” Lottie asks, catching Louis’ attention too. 

“She actually owns a branch of my company in Massachusetts. She’s married, has three kids, the whole lot. Works herself half to death, though.”

“As if you don’t.” Louis says with a little laugh. He’d never noticed before, but every time he’s at work, Harry is there, too. He’s always up in his office doing something, talking to someone, working on something. He’d always thought that the rich in America didn’t have to work as hard as the poor, but he realizes now that he’d thought wrong. 

The girls eventually go into the other room to leave him and Harry to spend some time together alone, despite Harry saying he didn’t mind spending time with the lot of them. But it’s nice, Louis thinks. 

“How do you take your tea?” Louis asks, going to the small sink in the kitchen and filling a kettle with water. 

“With just a bit of milk, if you have it.” That brings another smile to Louis’ face. 

“I was nervous you’d say with sugar. Would’ve had to kick you out, then.” Harry laughs at that, smile lighting up the entire room. 

 

From there, he and Harry are a hit. 

Months went by and the happiness Louis felt when he was beside the other man never once faded. They went out on one date a week, every saturday around five, and usually Harry would come over after the two of them got off of work on tuesday evenings, too. 

Spending so much time together, he’d worried that Harry would grow tired of him and how much he cared for those around him, very rarely looking out just for himself. But he never seemed to. 

Harry would come over to his house every tuesday and always made Louis his tea, just the way he liked it, before the lot of them would all sit around the table and eat whatever it was that Harry and Lottie would cook together. As it turned out, Harry loves to cook, just like Lottie. The two of them shared recipes and grew even closer as they spent time together, and something about that made Louis’ chest feel tight. 

He’d always wanted to fall in love with someone who cared about family just as much as he does. 

Each one of their dates were magical in the smallest but most beautiful of ways. 

First, it was dinner, then a small picnic in the park, and then a walk. Harry, he realized, was just a true romantic in the way that he wanted to have Louis falling for him hard and fast in the way he promised himself he never would. 

“You love him, don’t you?” Lottie asks from where she lays beside him. He’d thought she’d fallen asleep a long time ago as he’d laid there, letting his thoughts take over. 

“I do.” He says. Admitting it outloud is much more terrifying than he’d ever thought it would be. He loves Harry - he loves Harry and he has absolutely no idea what to do about it. 

 

He’s never been to Harry’s house, but when the two of them walk up, he’s not sure why he’s so entirely surprised. It’s massive, white paint on the outside with the remnants of flowers that haven’t died in the winter decorating the walkway. A horse stable sits on the right side of the house, bringing his attention to the massive yard the house sits on. 

When he steps inside of the house, it smells like sweet pine and roasting hazelnut. It’s sweet and entirely all encompassing in a way that Louis feels like he never wants to leave. Harry hangs his coat on a rack resting beside the door and Louis follows the motion, unsure what else he’s meant to do. 

When Harry had said he wanted to spend time with him - he’d never expected it to reach this level. He’d never expected they’d get this close, that things would progress to the point they’ve gotten to. He’s not felt something for another person since he was too young to understand that all that comes from love is heartbreak and loss. 

“This is lovely.” Louis says, looking around as the two of them walk further into the house. A soft glow comes from the fireplace, candles strewn about in various places around the room. A large pinetree sits in front of the window, strings of popcorn and different kinds of nuts tied around the bristles. He’s always heard of people bringing trees into their homes for the holidays, but he’d never seen one in person. It was magical - almost in a way that brought the holiday to life in a way that he never could have imagined. 

He feels entirely out of place as Harry shows him to the kitchen. “I can tell you feel uncomfortable.” The other man finally says. “Is it something I’ve done? I haven’t - I haven’t put you off or anything, right?”

“No!” Louis says, perhaps to brash, his face heating up at the sudden answer. “No, no it’s not - you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just taking everything in.” He says, giving a smile. Harry returns the gesture, seemingly happy with his response. 

Harry gives him a tour of the house and shows him all of his favorite things, making Louis gawk the entire time. He’s never been inside of a proper  _ manor  _ before - and everything about Styles’ Manor is grand. 

They spend the time as dinner is being cooked by Harry’s staff in the den, Louis on Harry’s lap as they kiss, heavy and sweet all the same. He’s not sure where this entirely promiscuous side of himself is coming from, but Harry manages to draw it out of him in the best of ways. There are moments when they’re together when the idea of sitting and snogging him sounds like the best thing he possibly could do - and then there are the moments where they actually  _ are  _ snogging, and he wants nothing more. He wants all of it, all of Harry. 

He wants everything, as long as Harry is with him. 

  
  


“His house is stunning.” He tells the girls over breakfast the next morning. They always want to know all the details of what happens between him and Harry, and they take everything in easily. “He has a christmas tree. Decorated and everything.”

“Wow, he really does have some money then, doesn’t he?”

“He definitely does.” Louis says, still taking in the fact for himself. They eat the rest of their meal in silence. He doesn’t have much else to talk about and all of his thoughts have been taken over by thoughts of Harry - so he just lets himself think about him more. 

  
  


Another long week at work has him exhausted. He’s excited to be able to go back to Harry’s house, but another part of him wants nothing more than to climb into bed and sleep for the entire following day. 

He opens the door and looks around, trying to find the source of the large brown, paper bag sitting on the front step of his home. There’s no one around, so he takes the bag into the kitchen and slowly starts taking out the contents. Three loaves of bread, several potatoes, a dozen eggs, as well as half a gallon of milk. He feels like he’s stolen something as he stares at the bag, not sure who would possibly leave something like this for his family. 

At the bottom of the bag is a small paper card with only three words. 

“Hope this helps - H.” 

A whirlwind of emotions swirls around in his head and he suddenly is entirely unsure how to process them. Anger, he realizes, is the dominant emotion, alongside embarrassment. He’s not sure why so much shame creeps into the depths of his mind as he reads the card over and over again, unsure what to make of it. He tucks it away before the girls would see it, leaving the things on the counter as he marches out the door without a word. 

He cannot believe that all of this - that after all of this act that Harry had put on that he still sees Louis as someone who can’t take care of himself - as someone who can’t take care of those he loves. 

He calms down enough on his walk down the now familiar streets and as he knocks on the door. 

“Are you mocking me?” Louis nearly shouts as soon as Harry answers. “Are you trying - was all of this to make me look like a fool? To show how superior you are to me? Some…. Revenge ploy?!” Harry looks taken aback as Louis stands in front of him, humiliation and rage written all over his face. “Because it’s not funny, and it’s not -” He takes a deep breath. “If you didn’t mean any of this, I don’t need to be humiliated to find out.” 

“What are you talking about?” Harry asks, a sincerity in his voice that has Louis’ eyes darting up. 

“The food. As if I haven’t provided for my family just fine for all these years and suddenly you think I can’t provide for them myself - like some degenerate!” 

“Louis,” Harry starts, but he’s starting ranting now. 

“I know, I know, you have money, you have things, you have financial security. I’m very happy that you have those things, but we don’t, and I know that, and I don’t need it flaunted in front of my face!” He knows his pride is causing this - that none of this is rational but the words still stream from his mouth for no reason other than the constant stream of anxiety running through his veins. 

“Come inside. Can I at least explain myself?” Louis swallows, composes himself, and walks inside. 

“It wasn’t meant at all to upset you.” The other man starts. “I thought - I thought maybe it would help.” Harry sounds sincere, but something still twists inside of Louis’ stomach. “On our last date, I remembered that you were talking about how guilty you felt for letting me take you out to eat while your sisters just had what you’d bought at home. And then, I think you just mentioned in passing but it made me feel so bad, that Felicite is ill and that her medication was costing more than half of your pay. I genuinely just wanted to help you take a bit of a burden off of your shoulders. It was not meant at all in malice.” 

Louis freezes, the pridefulness suddenly replaced with shame. He’d been wrong to accuse Harry so easily and suddenly guilty streamed through his mind where anger had been moments previous. 

“I’m honestly just an idiot, aren’t I?”

“I think you think with your heart before you think with your brain a little too often.” Harry says with a lopsided grin. 

“It really did help. The girls were very excited to make pancakes. It’s always been their favorite food. Thank you.” 

“Does this mean you’re not angry anymore?”

“No, I’m not. Are you angry with me…. For getting angry?” 

“I was worried at first, but now it’s just a bit funny, actually.” He pauses for a moment before a little laugh pushes past his lips, making him smile. “Communication is important, and I can see where your thought process was, but I promise that’s not how I see you. I just wanted to do something nice, and sometimes giving things is the only way I know how to.” Louis nods. 

“You know how I want to show how much you mean to me?” He asks, putting his arms around Harry’s neck, standing on his tiptoes. Harry raises his eyebrows, a small grin on his face. 

“How’s that?” Harry asks, putting his hands on his hips. Louis slides his hands down Harry’s chest until he has their fingers intertwined and starts walking down the long, wide hallway to Harry’s bedroom. 

“Make love to me.” He whispers. The fireplace in Harry’s room is burning lowly, small crackles and flickers of the flame filling the silent spaces between them. 

The way Harry kisses now is different from any other time. As Harry lays him out on the bed, hands touching parts of his body that he’s never yet touched, Louis realizes this. There are the soft, incredibly innocent goodnight kisses that Louis has grown so very fond of, the hard and soft snogging when they’re alone together, and  _ this.  _

This, Louis thinks, is his favorite. 

 

Harry strips him of his clothes slowly, making easy work of each motion, replacing the cloth with gentle kisses instead. He kisses each inch of exposed skin as they lay together, Harry atop him, perched up by his forearms. 

When they’re both down to only their pants, the hard length of Harry’s cock drags against Louis’, drawing a gasp from the smaller man’s throat. It’s gentle and hard all the same, fast and slow, contradictory in every way Louis can imagine it could be. 

“You are stunning.” He says, making a tint of pink spread across Louis’ entire body. “Absolutely beautiful.” Harry strips him down completely naked when he pulls the thin material of his pants away, tossing them somewhere behind him in the room. 

It’s fast as Harry spits into his hand and rubs the wetness over the length of his fingers, kissing Louis again. “You’re sure?” He asks, gaze locked with Louis’ eyes. 

“Yes, absolutely.” He says, a smile on his face. Harry presses the first finger in up to the knuckle, making Louis close his eyes, mouth open and face twisted. It’s not uncomfortable - but it’s not entirely pleasant, either. It has been years and years since he’s had anything inside of him, and the newness of the stretch reminds him of how good it can and  _ will  _ feel - but not until he gets there. “It’s been - a long time.” He breathes out as Harry twists the digit, making one of Louis’ legs jerk as he finds that lovely spot inside of him that makes pleasure spark through his body. 

“I’ll go slow.” Harry promises, kissing him again, burying the moans and whines that Louis gives as the discomfort morphs into a fast hot and white pleasure, spreading all through him. 

He gasps when Harry presses in his third finger, the stretch wonderful. He scissors the digits, making Louis moan louder. 

It’s not until he’s entirely ready that Harry grabs a bottle, of what Louis assumes is oil from the table beside the bed, spreading the liquid over his cock. He fucks slow yet hard, purposeful in each of his thrusts that has Louis writhing against the sheets. 

They come together with just a few tugs on Louis’ cock, a shout of Harry’s name on Louis lips, and he falls asleep almost immediately after. 

  
  


He and Harry fit together in a way Louis doesn’t think he ever could with another person. Their personalities complement each other in a way that hadn’t even seemed like it was entirely possible until he was living it. 

He lays in bed, late on a tuesday night, letting his thoughts run rampant. He’d sent Harry home about five hours previous, with the obviously false excuse that it was scandalous to sleep over at someone’s house before marriage. It had been a joke - considering he’d already spent a night at Harry’s - but he felt like spending more time with Harry would only lead to disaster. 

It was something he was having more trouble admitting to himself than he wanted to think of, but he could feel himself falling in love with Harry. 

Sweet, lovely, kind Harry that always seemed to put others ahead of himself. Humble, generous, and caring Harry that helped others when they needed it and never took more than he truly needed. Soft, loving Harry that held Louis into the early morning hours when he was feeling especially exhausted. 

All of it was coming together to leave him helplessly, deeply in love with the man. 

And yet, he knew there had to be some kind of expiration date on whatever this was. Harry would have his fun, play with Louis’ heart until someone with enough to keep themselves a float came along. 

He wouldn’t deny it to himself - he knew that many nights it was Harry’s doing that kept his sisters so well fed and it was Harry’s doing that helped him keep their little apartment despite having cut back on as many overtime hours as he’d had before. 

Harry was keeping his family afloat and he did so purely out of some kindness in his heart that Louis knew would run out eventually. There was no way someone like Harry would want to support the five of them for very long. And as soon as that generosity ran out, Louis knew he’d find himself with a broken heart and he’d be right back to overworked, exhausted, and empty. 

Yet, some selfish and stupid part of him kept himself going back. Harry, he’s found, is more like a drug than anything else he’s ever experienced. It’s hard to stay away, and when he is away, he finds himself thinking of the other man more often that not. It’s not even in the moments when he finds himself actively thinking about him; instead, he finds himself walking down roads and seeing families laughing between one another, happy and at peace, and he thinks about how Harry would gush over a baby. He finds himself in a small shop to get a new button for his work clothes and sees a little pin he knows Harry would love. The thoughts are intrusive in the best way, and that’s the only reason he knows he’s in so, so very deep. 

Harry has woven his way into the deepest parts of his brain, but Louis has never been one to prevent. He’s always been the type to endure the blows and manage with damage control. 

  
  


The birds sing as he and Harry sit on his patio, watching the four girls chase geese around the water. Harry’s house sits on the edge of a large lake, creating a wonderful scene for the lot of them to relax together. 

But, Louis has only let himself wind up throughout the day. When he’d woken up, he’d managed only to think of when it would be that Harry would leave him. It was the only thought that would come to his mind, the only thing that would play on repeat like a scratching record until it was nearly driving him insane. 

It’s strange, he thinks, that these kinds of thoughts chose now to pop into his head when he least wants them. All he really wants is to enjoy these moments with Harry - live them out until the unwritten expiration date finally comes - but he doesn’t want to think about the end. Perhaps that’s the reason he’s thinking of it so terribly, simply because he  _ doesn’t  _ want to. His mind will always tell him the truth that his heart doesn’t want to hear. 

“Louis?” Harry asks, snapping him out of his daze. 

“Hm?”

“I asked what you would like to eat this evening. We have the options for fish or chicken, I believe.” 

“Um, either. Whatever’s fine.” He says, forcing a smile. He’s distracted, but he’s not entirely sure why he’s surprised when Harry calls him out on it. 

“What’s going through that head of yours? I can tell you’re not here with me.” Harry says softly, a gentle tone of worry in his voice. It makes Louis’ heart clench all over again. 

_ I love you and I don’t want to let go and please don’t leave me I don’t think I can go on if you go -  _

“I suppose I’m just wondering - why?” He starts, shutting off the stream of thought in his brain, “Why am I here? This is all - this is all incredible, and so, so very lovely. But it’s a world away from me, from what I’m used to. I’m sure there are so many people with much more money than I have that could give you love and the things you deserve, yet you seem to adamant on  _ me,  _ and most of the time I feel as if I’m not even worth your time of day.” It’s a slew of word vomit coming from his mouth as he speaks. It’s all true - every part of it having been what he’s felt over the last weeks they’ve been spending their time together. Yet, Harry seems entirely taken aback by the idea. 

“I wish so much that the idea of classism wasn’t so drilled into you.” Harry says with a sad smile. It sends a shock of guilt right through Louis. He hadn’t expected to hurt Harry with his words; he’d only expected him to agree and for them to finally go on their inevitable seperate ways. “Did I ever tell you the story of my family?”

“No, I don’t believe so.” 

“When I was three, my family lived in New Orleans.” He takes a bottle of red wine, pours the two of them glasses and hands one to Louis. “We were so poor that eating wasn’t a promise, that a home wasn’t something we had, and that the future often wasn’t something that looked possible.” Louis blinks, completely surprised by the admission. “My dad met another man, Geoff Payne, through another colleague, and they immediately hit it off with their love of the ocean. A bit of a silly thing to bond over, I suppose. But the two of them went out fishing so often that that was what my family and I ate nearly every day, every meal, for almost two years. That was when my dad started making little novelty items out of our new-found apartment, and started selling them to pay rent, and food, and whatever else we needed. Geoff eventually found out my dad was rather good at it, and offered to co-find a firm with him. So, to New York we came, and from poverty to riches we went. I was twelve by the time we were really well off, and we struggled significantly for the earliest parts of my life. I really do understand where you are, and I don’t judge you for it. 

Classism is bullshit, and I’ll never agree with it. I enjoy your company, I think you’re beautiful and interesting and lovely, and I do not care how much money you do or do not have. I don’t care about anything superficial like that.” 

Glass in hand, Louis is stunned. He’d always thought Harry had been from old money - but perhaps his assumptions had gotten the best of him. Frozen in place, he makes eye contact with the other man before a smile breaks out across his face. 

“Thank you for telling me. I suppose I could have asked earlier - but it’s reassuring to know you really don’t mind.” 

“Of course. I want you to voice any concerns you might have, as I’ll do the same. Communication is the key to a happy life, yes?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Now, how about dinner?”

“That sounds lovely.” 

 

After dinner, Harry invites the girls to find a room that looks comfortable and invites all of them to stay the night. The two of them go to Harry’s room, where the curly haired man decides to rub Louis’ back. 

“You’re so tense.” He says softly, trying not to break the calm mood of the room. 

“I work hard.” He returns, moaning into each touch in relief.

“You shouldn’t work as much as you do.” Harry says, and Louis hums his agreement, too lost in the bliss of feeling good. “I know we’ve talked about it, and I know you don’t like to listen to it, but I  _ like  _ taking care of people, Louis. It’s always made me feel good, made me feel like I’m doing something good in my life when I can help someone else.”

“What are you saying, then?” He asks, forcing himself to keep his head clear. 

“Don’t stop working, of course. I know how much you enjoy your pride and how much more you enjoy earning things for yourself.” Louis hums. “But perhaps don’t work so much. Take two, or three days off a week instead of just the one. Stop working twenty hour shifts. We can spend more time together or you can just take the extra time to spend with your sisters, or anything you’d like.” 

It’s an offer Louis doesn’t think he could turn down even if he weren’t half asleep. 

“That sounds really nice.” He says, before he falls asleep as Harry rubs out another painful knot on his back. 

  
  


He doesn't take Harry’s offer immediately. Instead, he waits about two weeks, having thought about it more, before he tells Harry he agrees. It’s incredible how just one extra day of not working so hard has left him feeling refreshed in ways he thought he never would again. He can’t remember a time in his entire life that he’d managed to have two entire days where he wasn’t expected to be working, and it leaves him with nothing short of pure bliss. 

Working less has left Louis with a new found energy he never realized he had. Something about being able to have free time fitting into his days made surviving much easier than he’d ever thought it could be. Lottie being able to do work she enjoyed with little labor and more than fair pay took away more guilt than he ever thought it could have. Seeing her feeling fulfilled and happy brings him a kind of joy he’d never thought he’d feel. 

“I’m going to run to Niall’s to get Felicite her meds.” He says softly as she writes down another set of numbers, double checking as she does at each step. Something about math, she’d say, something about it being like another language that she just understood the logistics of in a way Louis would call insane. 

“Okay, Lou. I’ll be here.” She smiles softly and he nods, taking exactly twelve bills from beneath his matress to get the medication his sister has become reliant on. He no longer feels anything other than responsibility when he leaves to get her what she needs. He knows it’s not anything that could have been prevented and he knows that it’s entirely attainable for him to afford the medications now. 

She’s able to live, but not only live, but live comfortably, and that’s all that matters to him. 

He walks slower than he normally would, enjoying the breezy warmth that surrounds him. Niall’s shop is about a half-hour walk at his normal pace, but he knows he can take well over an hour at this pace and it doesn’t bother him for even a moment. 

He lets himself think of Harry and the love that blossoms in his chest when he thinks of his curly haired boy. He lets himself think of a future that could so easily form between them, and he lets himself think of the future that he finally sees for his family. 

Before, he’d worked day to day, rarely thinking ahead to save the disappointment he knew he’d only cause himself. 

Now, all he sees is a happy time in the future where all of them are safe, happy, and comfortable. 

He gets the medication without fault, chatting with Niall for a few moments before another customer walks in and takes away his friend’s attention. “Bye, Niall!” He calls out as he walks out, happy to see that the sun has gone down completely now. 

New street lights were installed on the mainstreet where Niall works, illuminating the entire road just enough to make it feel magical at times. The soft glow shines over the pavement and he can’t help but smile as he starts his walk down his favorite road. 

“Faggot!” Someone shouts, making Louis freeze up. The man’s accent is thick and English and entirely threatening in a way Louis doesn’t think he’s heard before. He’d never been called such a slur before, and he keeps walking, quickly, bag in hand as he goes. Summer air surrounds him, the sweet smell of flowers in the trees reminding him of his favorite season, but the air is still bitter against his skin in the dark of the night. The season is still fresh enough that the waves of heat haven’t rolled past sundown just yet, despite how much Louis wishes they would. “Hey!” The same voice calls out again. “We was talkin’ to you.” A hand grabs Louis’ shoulder, yanking him back and tossing him against the wall. 

“We know yer fuckin’ the styles bloke. And we know yer benefitin’ off it.”

“I’m not.” He says, trying to get out of the hold. “He’s dating my sister.” 

“A liar  _ and  _ a faggot!” The man practically shouts. He tears the bag from Louis’ hand and tosses it to the road. He struggles from his grip, going after the bag, before he’s grabbed again and tossed back against the same brick wall. His head hits hard enough that his vision ebbs at the corner and the taste of blood fills his mouth from biting his tongue. “Pathetic little sinners like you don’t deserve to walk these streets.” Louis’ heart clenches, his chest getting tighter with fear. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He forces out, blinking away the dark spots on his vision. “Now, I think you ought to just let me go before I file charges for assault.” 

“Can’t file charges if yer dead, faggot.” Another wave of panic surges through Louis as he struggles to get out of the strange man’s grip. This kind of thing was the reason he had surrendered himself to never find love, to live his life giving his everything to his family and letting them fill the empty spaces in his heart. 

He doesn’t respond, instead he gets an elbow free and uses it to slam into the man’s nose, a sick crack sound filling the space between them. The man grunted, shouted something Louis didn’t catch. He took the chance to start running, feet smacking the pavement as he went. The sound of ripping material was what he heard next, the rasp of tearing thread filling the space around him before he felt his body jerk. The collar of his shirt tugged taut against his throat before it tore, sending him in a flurry of limbs to the ground. 

Little registered after that. 

Pain in his stomach - his chest - his face - everywhere. Coherency faded quickly and before long, the pain overwhelmed him to nothingness. 

 

When he wakes, the concrete below him is ice cold. His head is pounding and his vision is spinning. Nausea fills his stomach and threatens to have him doubling over, but he forces himself to swallow it down. “Oh, god.” He moans as he tries to move, sparks of pain jolting through his entire body. 

“Louis!” he hears voices shouting, but they sound distant. The streetlights above him have gone off, he thinks, or maybe he isn’t on the sidewalk where he’d been previously. 

He hears a few more calls of his name and tries to call back out to them, but as he inhales to take a deep breath, the pain makes him unable to yell loud enough. He knows he can barely move, and each breath only hurts more than the last. 

What he’s done to deserve this, he doesn’t know. How this strange man knew he was with Harry, he most certainly doesn’t know, and yet, he doesn’t want to know. While he doesn’t want anything like this to happen again - to him or to anyone - he thinks, suddenly, that he doesn’t love Harry any less. He doesn’t hate himself for who he is and he isn’t going to let the ideology of one man change the perfect course he’s found his life to be on as of late.

“Louis!” He hears a voice shout, all too loud for his sensitive head. “Harry, he’s over here!” 

“Lotts?” He asks, tasting more blood in his mouth than before. 

“Hey, shh. We’re gonna - we’re gonna help you now, okay?” Louis nods, letting his eyes fall shut. “No, wait, Lou, you have to stay up. Don’t fall asleep.” He doesn’t, even as he feels Harry lift him and carry him somewhere he can’t turn to see. As he’s carried, all he can see is Harry’s face and the stars shining so brightly in the sky. It’s a sight he knows he could live to see every day for a long time. 

He can hear Harry speaking to him softly as he forces himself to stay awake. 

He’s not sure how long it is before he hears more commotion around him, Harry speaking, Charlotte speaking, everyone speaking all at once before he’s placed down on a soft bed. Everything fades away. 

 

“Louis?” He hears as he opens his eyes yet again. He’d fallen asleep, somehow, but he feels much better. It’s Harry, sat beside Charlotte. A nurse with a small white cap perched atop her head walks just a few feet away from him, treating someone else. 

“Hi.” He says, giving a gentle smile. 

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks, a worried expression on his face. 

“Sore. Everything hurts pretty bad. But I’m alright.” 

“What happened?” Charlotte is the next to speak, her voice loud in the room. 

“Someone didn’t like the idea of a uh,” He looks around, making sure no one is within earshot, “A gay man walking around. I think he thought he’d killed me.”

“He would have if we wouldn’t have gotten you here when we did.” Harry says, anger in his voice. “That’s what the doctor said, anyway.”

“Christ.” He says, taking too deep of a breath and making a jolt of pain surge through his body again. 

“Mr.Tomlinson?” A doctor walks in. 

“Hi.” He says, unsure what he’s meant to say. He’d never been in a hospital himself before, other than when he’d watched his mother deliver children with her job at the hospital. 

“Hi. How are you feeling?”

“I’m in a bit of pain, but nothing unbearable.” The doctor gives him a strange look. 

“Are you sure? You’re handling this extraordinarily well. You have two broken ribs and we had to put your shoulder back in place from where it had fallen out when, I’m assuming, you hit the ground.” 

“Uh,” He winces again when he takes too deep of a breath. “It’s pretty painful, yeah.” He’s never dealt with pain quite this bad, but he’s also never let pain keep him from doing what he’s needed to do. Perhaps he’s formed some kind of mental block against it. 

The doctor manages to give him some medication to treat the pain, which Harry offers to pay for, and it’s not long after he takes it that he feels better immediately. 

“I thought I was going to lose you.” Harry says, biting his lip. “The entire time - The entire time I thought you were going to die, and the only thing I could think about was that I hadn’t told you I love you yet.” The words hit Louis harder than any blow ever could. “So I want to tell you now. I love you, Louis.  I love you so very much.”

“I love you, too.” He says, a tear brimming in his eyes. “I have for quite some time, now.” He says with a small, airy laugh. Harry is smiling and Louis feels like everything has fallen perfectly into place, now. 

 

It’s six months before Louis recovers fully. Motion is hard for a long time, and walking hurts more than he wants to admit. He’d attempted to go back to work before Harry had practically dragged him by his ear out the door, chastising him every moment for being there when he was injured. 

So, he and his sisters had moved into Harry’s manor, and everything was perfect in ways he couldn’t describe. 

His year and a half with Harry had gone by in a flurry of happiness and joy and absolute beauty in his life, and he couldn’t ask for anything else. 

It’s winter again as he stands in  _ their  _ kitchen, looking out the large, picture window at the light dusting of snow across the yard. Pancakes are frying on the stove beside him as Louis waits for one side to brown entirely before he flips it. 

Harry walks up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Hello, love.” He says, voice sleep soft and calm as it always seems to be when he’s just woken up. 

“Hello.” Louis says, flipping the pancake over on the skillet. It was the first time that Harry had stayed at his small apartment, and the girls were still sleeping quietly in their own beds. “How did you sleep?”

“Perfectly. You know you talk a bit when you sleep?” That makes Louis turn around, a shocked look on his face. It was a known fact that he could be rather chatty throughout the night, but he’d deny it to his grave. 

“I do not! You slander me.” He says, putting a hand over his heart in faux disdain. 

“Something like, ‘ _ harry, harry, oh, harry.’”  _ the other man teases lowly in his ear. Louis just grins, mischievous, before he gives a wink. 

“Maybe dream version of you is better at taking me to bed.” 

“Oh? Am I competing against a fabricated version of myself, now?”

“And you’re losing.” Louis teases. 

“I suppose we’ll have to change that.”

“Perhaps when there aren’t four young girls within a ten foot radius.” That brings a pout to Harry’s lips, making Louis laugh again. “Oh, hush. The pancakes are done now, so the girls will be up any moment.” He turns and tosses another one of the perfectly browned little circles onto a plate before placing it down on the folded down table. 

The girls come out just in time, settling down into their places at Harry’s table as if it’s what they’ve done for their entire lives. The twins are nearly eight now, Felicite isn’t sick anymore, and Lottie has been spending more of her time than she’d ever admit with a friend of Harry’s - Liam Payne. 

Their family is perfect. 

 

It’s another year before Lottie has left to live with Liam and the twins are enrolled in school. He and Harry spend a majority of their days together, now, with Harry having hired more people to take place of what he’d done at the factory. 

It’s late on a  thursday evening as Louis stands near the glass doors that show the shimmer of the moon against the lake in Harry’s back yard. The twins are fast asleep and he takes another sip of his wine. He turns, a smile spreading across his face when he sees Harry. 

A record plays softly in the background and Harry holds out his hand to dance. Louis is light with the alcohol, warm and fuzzy and content, and he takes Harry’s hand. He doesn’t recognize the song, but the slow, easy melody makes their awkward movements seem normal. 

“Marry me.” Harry asks just about half way through the song as he twists Louis around. It takes a moment for the question to set in, and when it does, Louis just brings himself closer to Harry, nodding a  _ yes, yes, of course.  _ Into the other man’s shoulder. 

It’s not going to happen, marriage between two men is unheard of and entirely unorthodox, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t entirely, fully, and earth-shatteringly in love. Louis doesn’t need a proper wedding to know that’s real. He doesn’t need a document to show that their families have merged, and he doesn’t need anything except the love that they share to hold them together. 

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays to [newyorkbaby](http://newyorkbaby.tumblr.com/). This was written for a secret santa exchange on tumblr. I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> To everyone else, I hope you enjoyed as well and happy holidays! 
> 
> You can follow me on [tumblr ](http://creamcoffeelou.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Also, if you are feeling generous and want to support your local fanfic author:  
> [](https://ko-fi.com/A237HRB)


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